


White Light/White Heat

by writtenbyizzy (BakerStreetMuse)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Based on a Tumblr Post, Chicken McNuggets, College Student Will Graham, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, Hannibal is Hannibal, I just like adding tags, Leather Jackets, Lollipops, M/M, Minor Violence, Motorcycles, Rimming, Sassy Will Graham, Will is fatally attracted to violence and Hannibal is fatally attracted to Will, commission, howishughdancyevenpossible, lord jesus its a fire, older bad boy hannibal, tbh, the usual, will graham is will graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerStreetMuse/pseuds/writtenbyizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is a wealthy, bratty criminal justice major who is in for a real shock when the dangerous man he's been teasing for weeks takes him out for a night on the town on the back of his motorcycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Light/White Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dis Post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/135720) by howishughdancyevenpossible. 



> A commission from someone who has chosen to remain anonymous, based on howishughdancyevenpossible's Lady and the Tramp Hannigram AU. Thanks to you for your commission, and thanks to howishughdancyevenpossible for being so cool about letting me do this. It was a rad time. I hope y'all enjoy.

"Hello, Will." 

Will blushes, his cheeks pink and hot, nearly as pink as the plush lips stretched around the flat of his strawberry lollipop. 

He clutches his Intro to Criminal Psychology textbook a little closer to his side and sucks nervously on his treat. He has never known anyone quite like Hannibal. His eyes trace from the man's thick black boots, to his thick denim-clad legs, straddling his purring motorcycle. Hannibal had told him about it, the make and model, the pieces that comprise it, and Will had gotten so lost in the sound of his voice, and the curve of his unusual mouth around every syllable, that he had forgotten everything the man had told him. 

Will wants him with a ferocious avarice. He wants him bad. 

He knows he has been caught staring and sheepishly returns to his lolly. He watches as Hannibal sits in the street astride his gleaming black and silver motorcycle from beneath his long lashes. 

"H-hi." He stammers and Hannibal's smirk sends heat pooling in his gut. "Want some?" He holds out the lollipop and Hannibal looks between him and it, seemingly with great consideration. 

"I'd rather take a bite out of you." He says, in all sincerity, and when Will tries to bashfully retract his hand he grabs his wrist and holds it still. 

Will squirms as Hannibal leans towards the treat and snaps it cleanly in two between powerful, jagged teeth. "Come for a ride." He offers, shards of the strawberry lollipop on his lips. Will wants to go bad. 

"Can't." He says instead, and it sounds genuine and firmly prissy. He pointedly sticks what's left of his ruined treat back in his mouth. Hannibal traces the motion with deep, dark eyes. 

"And why's that, Will?" 

"I've got class in fifteen minutes." 

"Which one?" 

"Into to Criminal Psychology." 

"You know, Will, this fatal attraction you have to danger is really going to get you into trouble one day." 

"I was hoping it would get me into trouble a little bit before that." 

"Were you?" 

Will shrugs and decisively sucks on his lollipop. Hannibal's eyes narrow. 

"Tonight. You're coming with me." 

"Am I, Hannibal?" 

"If you don't I'll drag you out of the lecture hall by your pig-tails." 

Will flushes dangerously. Hannibal leans closer. 

"Ok." Will agrees, his voice soft and breathless. Hannibal growls and Will shivers. "What are we gonna do?" 

"Whatever I want." Says Hannibal and Will does not need to employ his considerable imagination to understand his meaning. Through Hannibal's eyes he can see himself already, naked and squirming and begging. 

Will takes a deep breath. "Dinner first." He says. Hannibal snorts. 

"Is that what you really want from me, Will?" 

"Do you know how poor college students are, Hannibal?" 

"You hardly look like you eat at all. Though I doubt it's due to poverty." Hannibal takes his time, considering the length of Will's body, his hips, his hands, his slender neck, the gently curling ends of his hair, his lips. Will feels his gaze like a caress. 

"We're not all lucky like you, Hannibal." Will counters, arms crossed, affronted. 

"Like me?" 

"You're thick. You could choke me with one hand--" Will freezes, horrified at himself. Hannibal's gentle laughter burns like a slap across the face. 

"Only if you ask nicely." 

"Pick me up at eight, or don't. I won't be waiting." Will says. He tosses his mangled popsicle stick on the ground and strides away. Hannibal watches the fabric of his khakis strain against the gentle swell of his ass and whistles low and long as he rides away.  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

At a quarter of eight Will finds himself in his room, agonizing over what to wear. Beverly sits on the windowsill, more interested in the ridges of her new glass bong, crafted with a giant glass donut on the front, than his existential wardrobe crisis. 

"Beverly!" He moans. 

"Dude, I could fucking eat this bong, I swear to god. Your dad put more money in your account for food yet?" 

"Help me decide first!" 

'But-' 

'Help first! Then McDonalds.' 

"Ok. Well, so on a scale of old nun to romance novel heroine on her wedding night how bad do you want to lose your virginity tonight?" 

"Not at all. I don't even care." It sounds as dishonest as it feels and Beverly laughs. 

"Those shirts are literally two different shades of red and you have been agonizing over them for forty years." 

"It's just...well..." Will trails off as the sound of Hannibal's motorcycle fills the room and takes his breath. Their apartment is on the third floor. Will peers out the window and sees Hannibal below, dressed in leather and denim, cigarette between his fingers. Will swallows reflexively. 

"Oh damn! He can take my virginity too, honestly. You've been talking to him for weeks and haven't bent over yet? You're a champion." 

Will glares at Beverly and she shrugs. He looks between his two red button ups nervously. "You told me you lost your virginity to your first boyfriend at 16!" 

"Yeah, but your dude could probably re-take it, honestly." 

"Losing your virginity isn't like taking the SAT's, Beverly!" 

"My favorite sex position is the snack break." 

"Beverly!" 

"Just fuckin eat my-' 

"BEVERLY HE'S DOWN THERE WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO WEAR?" 

"Give me your card so I can buy McDonalds." 

With a sigh, Will opens up his wallet, full of various cards, and hands his friend one. She passes him the slightly darker red shirt, punches him in the arm, tells him to leave his family bank at home, and ambles out toward the McFlurry at the end of the rainbow. 

Will feels sick and nervous and pained and elated. He painstakingly removes the ends of his curls from his shirt collar, seriously considering a haircut before he leaves with Hannibal. He tucks his shirt and untucks it. He bites his lip and sets it free. He forgets to breathe and then forces himself to breathe, only to become self-conscious of the volume of his breaths. 

"Dad is going to fucking kill you." He says to his reflection. He pouts in response, studying himself. "One way or another, he will find out, and you will die." 

With a final attempt to make his breathing constant and well thought out yet natural, he takes the stairs slowly to the front of Graham Hall, where Hannibal waits for him.  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Hello, Will." Hannibal says, long and low, and Will feels distinctly as if he is about to be eaten alive. 

"Whatever." He says in return, wholly petulant. Prickly and hard to reach, there is a reason Will has been so wholly alone, despite the fine bones of his face and slender arcs of his youthful body. He puts a hand on his hip, cocking it forward. "Where are you taking me?" 

"No." Says Hannibal evenly, as if admonishing a child. 

"No?" Will repeats, incredulous, and unused to the word. 

"Get on the back of my motorcycle, and put your arms around my waist." 

"I know what to do." 

"Of course." Hannibal replies and Will mounts the bike shakily. A thrill spikes through him, lightning-hot. He loops his arms around Hannibal loosely, and the solid warmth of him is an incredible shock. At the first sign of life of the motorcycle, its first earth-shattering mechanical rumble, Will squeaks and plasters himself against Hannibal's back. He grips on for dear life as they speed away. 

With his eyes clenched tight against the wind, Will finds himself hyper aware of the leather-clad back he has burrowed in. He can feel the muscles clench and and unclench beneath his cheek. He is lulled into complacence by the steady breaths and heartbeat of a man purely in his element, a man in control. Will breathes him in and cracks an eye open. Asphalt blends to a nauseating blur beneath them. He closes his eyes again, opting to focus entirely on the strong length of Hannibal's body. The scent of leather, cigarettes, sweat, and the wind. He feels his own hair blowing about wildly behind him. 

When they come to a stop Will is vertiginous and shaking, weak as a newborn calf. Hannibal helps him return to earth, tethers him there as a solid weight. Will clings to him, enamored and at a complete loss. 

The sound of a bottle breaking breaks the spell. It is only then that Will notices their surroundings. It's dirty, it's dark. Red light from a half-lit strip club sign casts an evil glow on the night. The sidewalk is coming up. There's scattered glass and weeds poking through. Will thinks he sees a needle in the street. 

"H-hannibal?" He asks, terrified. 

"You're not old enough to drink, are you?" 

"I have a fake ID." Says Will and Hannibal beams. 

"Well, you will not be needing that here." 

Will watches in fascination as Hannibal knocks three times on the door of a house with boarded up windows. It looks abandoned. Graffiti is scrawled haplessly. There's a broken toilet in the yard. A large man in leather opens it. He looks at Will head to toe and his insides squirm. He huffs indignantly. 

"Very nice." He says. 

"Fuck you!" Will replies. 

"Feisty." Remarks the man and Hannibal nods with long suffering grin. 

"I'm not going in there!" 

"Don't be rude, Will." 

"This isn't what I wanted!" Will bellows. Hannibal regards him coolly, as if his distress is wholly unimportant. 

"Then be a good puppy, and wait outside until you feel more like behaving yourself." 

The man at the door begins to chuckle, and that tears it for Will, who runs down the block, tears like tiny pearls beading in the corner of his wild, frightened eyes. 

Will runs and runs and runs, cursing and crying and wholly directionless in a place he has never been before, and doesn't feel safe at all. He turns at random corners, every face a nightmare and every piece of broken glass and rotten debris a new nightmare. It starts to rain and he ducks beneath the awning of an abandoned corner store for warmth. He takes out his phone to call for a cab. He's crying and panting and keeps touching the wrong numbers. He tries four times before he becomes distinctly aware of another presence, and then a knife at his throat. 

"Oh god!" He moans, and looks into the face of a man obscured by the hood of a large dark sweatshirt. 

"Give me everything in your fucking pockets." The man says and Will starts to shake, he finds that he can't move or breathe. His phone is yanked from his hands. 

"Do you not fucking hear, bitch? I said give me every-fucking-god-damn-thing in your pockets!" 

Will quivers as he slides his hands down his front and tries to fit them in the wet pockets of his too-tight denim. He's got his hand around his wallet when suddenly the man is pulled away from him, as if by an invisible force. 

Will slides down the wall and grasps his throat, still feeling the ghost of a knife there. He slowly looks up through his lashes to see Hannibal on top of the other man. They struggle and wrestle in the rain, and Will watches as droplets slide down Hannibal's face and hair and jacket. 

"I'm fucking sorry! I didn't know!" His mugger begs and begs and begs as Hannibal presses him into the grime and filth of the city, his hands around his throat. Will winces as the man begins to choke, his body seizes and twitches futilely beneath Hannibal's strength. 

Will feels arousal pool hot in his stomach, followed by overwhelming horror. 

"Hannibal," He whispers softly. He stands and comes closer and closer to him in the rain. He looks into the frantic eyes of the man on the ground, his blue-tinged lips. "Hannibal, please. Don't." Will says and he watches as Hannibal releases the man by degrees. 

"You don't touch him." Hannibal says simply, still astride the mugger. Will flushes. "Do you understand?" 

The mugger nods weakly, and Hannibal hovers over him even as he stands, towering and powerful. "If my boy weren't so sweet," Hannibal's accent is thicker. His exertion-roughened voice makes Will weak. Hannibal calling him 'his boy' plays like a broken record in his head. He feels drunk on his own possession. "Your insides would be tastefully decorating the outside of this shop." 

The mugger makes a pathetic noise and Will places a hand on Hannibal's bicep. His slender fingers slip against the rain-splattered leather. Hannibal looks down at him, eyes dark and all-consuming. Will knows he has been cruel to him. 

"Take me home." Will whispers and Hannibal bends into him, devouring his mouth. Will whines as Hannibal fucks him with his tongue, rough and deep and undeniable. Will opens beneath him like a flower reaching toward the light. He keens as the older man's stubble scrapes his jaw and chin raw. Rough hands pull on his damp hair and find the curve of his ass, grasping and demanding their fill. Will spreads his legs and Hannibal's resulting growl resonates in his bones. 

"Oh god take me home. Please Hannibal. Please." Will breathes between burning kisses. He grasps futilely at wet leather. "Please." 

Will squeaks as he is lifted into strong arms and deposited on the back of Hannibal's motorcycle. When Hannibal settles in in front of him Will melts against him without complaint and closes his eyes tight, settling in for another ride, losing himself in Hannibal and ignoring the road blurring beneath them. 

When Will finds himself again in Hannibal's arms, standing on solid ground, he arches upwards, seeking his lips. Hannibal grants him his wish, leaning against his bike as Will leans against him, tantalizingly sliding against him in the rain. 

"Will." Hannibal intones, low and thick and Will shivers as he takes his hand and leads him into Graham Hall, through the lobby, and up to his floor. They touch all the while, avaricious and greedy, unable to be separated for long. As Will fiddles with his keys in the door Hannibal presses against his back, rubbing his clothed erection against Will, who gasps, frozen and wide eyed. The door swings open to reveal Beverly, unconscious on the sofa with a lap top on her stomach and surrounded by scattered McNuggets. They walk quietly passed her, and into Will's room. 

Hannibal looks pointedly at the several outfits laying on the bed, and Will blushes. 

"Were you trying to get dressed up for me, Will?" Hannibal asks, very well knowing the answer. Will shakes his head as Hannibal circles him. His wet leather jacket squelches against the floor and Will gasps as his jaw is taken into a large, rough hand. "I will have to break you of this dishonesty." 

Knuckles tease against Will's sharp jaw and soft throat. His body tingles. He chokes as Hannibal roughly slaps his ass through the fabric of his wet thin jeans. He is hot and cold all at once. 

"I might suggest something else, if you want to get dressed up for me, Will." 

"And what's that?" Will asks, too quickly. He is too desperate to please and it is too late to hide. 

"More lace." Says Hannibal as he takes to the buttons of Will's wet red button up, one by one. "Stockings." The shirt is entirely undone. Hannibal begins to peel it away. "Something just as rich and decadent as you are, that really accentuates your little tits." 

"My little-" Will begins, confused, but is cut off as Hannibal latches onto one of his nipples, biting and licking and sucking. Hannibal pulls on his hair, exposing his neck, and kisses and bites him from jaw to chest, playing with each of his tiny little nipples until they ache. Will finds his pants around his ankles and doesn't know how they got there. He's between Hannibal and the wall, his slender ankles knocking together as Hannibal ruts against him. Will moans, high and loud. Embarrassed at the noises he makes, he bites down on his lip. 

"No." Hannibal admonishes, before sucking the trapped lip into his mouth. He digs his nails into Will's bare ass and the boy surges against him. His eyes widen at the solid feel of Hannibal's thick clothed erection. 

"I've known a lot of cock-hungry little tarts like you." 

Will shakes his head, still blindly grinding down for friction as Hannibal holds him open wide. He gasps as he's suddenly in the air and then face down on his bed, limbs akimbo, long hair spilling across his bed spread, and backside exposed. He feels Hannibal's hands against his thighs and attempts to clamp his legs shut, only to find an unyielding grip spreading him wide. 

"Let me see, Will." Hannibal demands and Will shakes his head. He takes a hand and slides it between his virgin hole and Hannibal's hungry gaze. 

"I want to see your pussy." Hannibal says and Will's hand slackens in his shock. Hannibal is able to bat his arm away easily. He looks his fill of Will's hole, little and tightly furled. He circles a finger around it, lightly, the nail ghosting across his surface. He greedily observes Will's intake of breath, he watches as he begins to lean into the teasing touch. 

"I bet you taste divine." Remarks Hannibal and Will's cock twitches in the hollow between his hip bones. "Your little pussy." 

"Stop calling it that!" Will demands and tries to close his legs again, only to feel Hannibal pulling him up onto his knees, and brushing his stubble between his cheeks. He sucks maddening kiss after maddening kiss from his lower back to his thighs. 

"My mistake." Says Hannibal, levelly, and Will breathes a sigh of relief. "Of course this isn't your little pussy at all.' He breathes against the sensitive skin of Will's hole and he shivers. "It's mine." 

Will's protest is cut short by the feel of Hannibal's slick tongue curling inside him, seeking and stretching and twisting. Will sobs against his pillow, raw and careless as Hannibal reaches around to stroke his weeping cock as sucks open mouthed kisses against his hole. 

Hannibal has to ask Will where his lube is three times before Will returns to himself enough to respond. He points to the nightstand and feels an acute loss when Hannibal stops touching him to fetch it. Will reaches for him with his foot and finds that Hannibal is still dressed. The realization makes him frown. He rolls onto his back. 

"Take it all off." Will demands and Hannibal turns to face him, tube of lube in hand. He places it on the bed. 

"Get yourself ready for me." He says and Will's eyes open wide. 

"You mean...." Will begins, unsure. Hannibal pauses with his white T-shirt halfway off. Will sees the hair leading down into his jeans and nearly salivates. 

"Yes, Will." Hannibal continues. His shirt falls to the floor. His belt follows."Finger yourself." Will watches the hard outline of his thick cock through his briefs. He watches, doe-eyed and captivated as it twitches. "Get yourself wet and open for me." 

Shame and desire burn through Will as he slicks up his fingers and begins to prepare himself. He has done this many, many times. It has always left him feeling vaguely dissatisfied. He finds his loosened hole, pliant and slick with spit and slides two of his long slender fingers inside. He looks to Hannibal, and sees him with one hand on his cock, stroking it and coating it with lube. His eyes burn. 

Will makes a show of it, arching and writhing and fucking his own fingers. He wants that cock inside him. He wants every hot, thick inch of it. He looks at Hannibal through his eyelashes as he fingers himself, deep but never deep enough. He grazes his own prostate and lets out a long cry. 

When Hannibal falls upon him he nearly sobs with relief. Hannibal pulls his own fingers free and inserts three of his own. Will howls at the burn. 

"You have a very tight, very naughty pussy, Will." Hannibal intones and Will shakes his head. Hannibal spreads his fingers and will cries in pain, pleasure, and confusion. Hannibal expertly massages his prostate between his fingers and pleasure flares low in his belly as the boy howls. 

"I bet it would take my whole hand." 

Will becomes frantic at that, caught between pulling away and blindly seeking friction. "It still wouldn't be enough for you, would it?" 

Will nods and then shakes his head, half unsure of what's being said to him as Hannibal's rough fingers start to dive deep, in and out, pounding against his sensitive insides. 

"Stop...it..." Says Will and its weak, blind with bliss, and unconvincing. Hannibal roughly withdraws and reinserts one finger. He watches as Will's loose hole spasms futilely around it. He tickles and teases, barely brushing against the spot inside him where he needs it most. Will whines as his red hole flutters, desperate and aching. 

"Hannibal, please!" He wails. 

"As you wish." Hannibal says and suddenly Will feels the tip of that thick cock pressed against him. He's elated and terrified. He opens himself up and wraps his long slender legs around Hannibal's waist as he moves, inch by inch by inch. 

Will drips sweat, his heart hammers in his throat, and he feels full on the verge of madness. He curls his hands in Hannibal's chest hair, weak as a kitten, futilely pushing him away and pulling him closer at once. 

"You've never done this before, have you, Will?" 

"No-oh!" Will responds on a gasp as Hannibal sits fully inside him. He feels the older man's heavy balls flush against him. He looks up at Hannibal with trepidation and wonder. 

"You should have told me." 

Will blushes from his cheeks to the tip of his leaking cock. 

"I might have been gentle with you." 

Will blinks blearily. 

"I could have played with your little pussy for hours." 

Will looks like he might protest and that is when Hannibal starts to move. Will panics in short gasps, tears streaming down his face. His incoherent whines end in an elated cry as Hannibal slams into his prostate. 

With a wail Will comes across his stomach, streams of white cum nearly reaching his chin as Hannibal continues to move inside him for what feels like hours. Will lays, blissed out and limp as a kitten as Hannibal continues to move within him, sending faint sparks of pleasure shooting through him. He weaves in and out of a haze of pleasure as Hannibal continues to take and take and take. 

"So good, Hannibal." He mutters occasionally, through the fog. Hannibal responds, but its not in English, and he cannot understand. 

It is only as he feels Hannibal's seed hot and thick within him that he realizes that Hannibal had not put a condom on. When Hannibal pulls his cock free with a groan, and Will feels cum dripping down his hole and between his thighs, he wants to cry. 

And then suddenly Hannibal is upon him again, kissing and touching and stroking, so soft and sweet that Will wants to cry all over again. He feels his stubble against his throat and yelps as Hannibal starts to play with one of his tender nipples between his fingers. 

"You're so beautiful, Will." Says Hannibal, low and decadent and Will feels himself melt into a puddle. He curls on top of Hannibal and buries his head in his chest hair. He feels Hannibal bury one hand in his sweat-slick curls. Will nearly purrs. His bliss is broken when he feels a thick finger ghosting around the rim of his sore, gaping, and dripping hole. 

"Hannibal!" He whines and the larger man hushes him, still doing as he pleases. Will relaxes into the gentle probing, his flaccid cock even gently twitches against Hannibal's stomach. 

"You're perfect." Says Hannibal and Will buries his head in his chest, shy and unused to such praise. His body aches. Hannibal's hand moves from his hole to his cheeks, rubbing soothing circles. Will falls asleep atop him, curled up like a kitten, without even realizing it. Hannibal rests his head against the pillow behind him and closes his eyes, his hands still greedily exploring whatever of Will he can reach.


End file.
